The Hero's Revenge
by SkylineFreak
Summary: Chapter 1 of the Hero's Revenge, The first book of five in my Percy Jackson spinoff series, Olympian Adventures. A new half-blood son of Poseidon has appeared... read the rest and find out what happens next... good luck its still in progress, final one hasn't been finished yet.


**Kyle: I Accidentally on Purpose Drive Off a Bridge.**

Even before I fell off the bridge I was having the worst day possible. You see my mom just died of lung cancer and her funeral was today. And on top of that I just learned I would be going to foster care by the end of the week.

The funeral was a blur, just sobbing people giving their condolences and walking around in a somber mood in their deep blue and green outfits, the colors of the sea. My mom loved the sea (even though we lived in the middle of Colorado, absolutely nowhere near an ocean). She used to always tell me that's where my dad came from, but I never understood what she meant by it, all I knew was that it reminded me of my mom, and just thinking about her made me sad and angry. I had to refrain myself from yelling at guests out of anger and crying on the spot, _Keep strong, it's the only way one can survive_, she used to say to me all the time when I was little, I hated that saying, and I still do to this very day. _Fat lot of good it did you, you were strong every day and now look at you._ I quickly toss the thought aside and it takes all of my willpower to not to start crying.

I walked around the church after the funeral, Johnny Cash blaring in my ear. _This isn't how she would want to be remembered,_ I think to myself,_ she wouldn't want this, any of this, she would want everyone to be laughing and smiling, and having a good time at her funeral, not a bunch of people who walk around and cry the whole time…_ I sit down in a church pew and lean my head back. I fall asleep instantly even with the Johnny Cash playing loudly in my ears. I wake up what seems like hours later, but I look at my phone and realize it must have been minutes, because the funeral was over at 12:45 and my phone says its 1:03. I sit up and start crying, rejoicing in the good times I had with my mom, but also remembering the bad.

The burial was a blur as well. I tried to keep my composure and not cry, but I failed. Once I let the tears roll down my cheeks, it seemed like they would never stop. I cried for what felt like hours, until I heard my mom's best friend, Meagan stand up and walk away, bumping into me in the process. That's when I noticed something weird.

There was this weird man at the burial too, he wasn't quite by himself, but he wasn't with the rest of the crowd either, He looked an awful lot like an older version of me. He had an athletic build, with a deep tan and wrinkles in his face that showed he laughed a lot, but also a look that was very sad, almost lonely. He had bright green eyes that had a certain look to them, almost as if they were a thousand years old and could see right through you. This man was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts and a fishing hat (even though it was the middle of January in Colorado) and to top it all off... Snow boots. I saw that he was looking right at me, so I turned away, and as soon I looked back, he was gone, there were no shoeprints in the snow either, showing nowhere at all that he was just leaning up against this tree.

"Weird," I say out loud "I could have sworn there was a man standing there."

"The snow can play weird tricks on the eyes kid, come… lets go, and I can't bear this anymore."

"Yes sir," I say still shocked by his sudden appearance, as I turn around and leave the burial "oh and Grandpa Jack, what was my dad like?"

"Son," he says in a hushed voice "I wish I could tell you, I only met the fella once, on a fishing trip to the Atlantic, he met us at the wharf and asked to tag along, brought his own equipment too, just a single trident, that he was using to spearfish, then as soon as he caught a huge swordfish, he said something in a different language, it sounded old, almost like Greek, then he let the fish go. He was kind though, I can tell ya that much. He loved your mom a lot. I wish you could have met him, he was a good sort. Treated your mother like a queen, and even offered to make her a queen too.

"Oh…" It's all I can make myself say as I step into my grandpas '89 Chevy pickup and he drives off.

Before I know it we arrive at his and Grandma Carol's cabin. It's a quaint little place, with a wrap-around porch, two car garage and a basketball hoop hanging off the garage door that Grandpa Jack built himself, just for me. Once he parks the truck we both get out of it and walk towards the cabin. That's when the screaming started. Instinctively I cover my ears and run for the front door, Grandpa Jack follows slowly and hands me a Glock pistol " Here!, Use these!" he shouts as he tosses me a loaded magazine with bullets of… bronze? I don't stop to question the ammo any longer and shove the magazine into the gun, and pull back the slide, chambering a round in the gun.

Grandpa Jack entered the house first and as soon as he dis we heard the spine-chilling scream again "CAROL!" he yells as he runs toward the noise, pistol in hand

"Stay put, don't move unless I tell you too… Got that!" He turns around and sternly says to me

"Yes sir" I say shakily,

"Alright, I hope you won't have to use that, stay put and keep quiet, if you need to get out in case anything happens, here are the keys to your mom's car… She taught you how to drive right?"

"Y-yes s-s-sir, you are c-coming back with Grandma r-right?"

"Son, I can't say, I will try, just know that if we don't… you can make it, the road will be difficult and long, but you will have friends, and your dad at your side whenever you need him most, good luck kid."

I have no idea what he's talking about but I manage a nod. As soon as he finished he walked up the stairs toward their room and disappeared around another corner. _Great… Just great, I'm stuck here with a gun while my grandma is screaming and my grandpa is walking around by himself. _I waited there on the floor for about 5 minutes when I hear another scream… this one from Grandpa Jack. Slowly I walked up the stairs and around the corner I saw a sight so gruesome that I got sick right then and there. Sitting on the floor motionless was Grandma Carol, with snake-bite marks covering her arms. I screamed and ran to the next room and in it was Grandpa Jack laying there almost lifeless. I walked towards him and he opens his eyes a little, his skin is a sickly shade of green. With the same marks on his skin that Grandma Carol had.

"Grandpa! What happened?"

"No... Time… _Amphisbaena_… After… You… Run to camp…Under…Bridge…" and before he could say anything else he passed into the void

After Grandpa Jack died I ran to the garage and shoved open the left door, revealing my ticket out of this newfound hell that I live in, a 2004 Subaru STi… my mom's old car. I just started moving my hand toward my pocket trying to find the keys, when I heard a loud hiss right behind me. I instinctively pull the Glock out of my other pocket (dumb place to put it, yes I know) and turn around slowly. Right behind me is this 15 foot long, double headed snake with wings. The left body was a vibrant green the color of venom, the right body was the color of bricks, a deep pale red that reminded me of blood, both had the same, pure white wings and deep black eyes that radiated heat…and death. Both heads had 6 inch fangs that dripped poison. I went through all the creatures that I could think of, both real and (surprisingly) mythological until I remember what Grandpa Jack said the name of this monster was: the _Amphisbaena._

The first stupid thing I did was scream. The second stupid thing was run for the car, which was locked of course and the keys were still in my pocket, so after that I did the only logical thing I could think of… shoot. The second I pulled the trigger back the gun started to change, transforming from a pistol into a sword. The blade was three and a half feet long easy, made of bronze and fifty times sharper then the pencil you just got really sharp last school year. The hilt was silver and the handle was wrapped in black leather. The pommel had a gigantic sapphire that had some weird language engraved in it, that I somehow knew was Ancient Greek for _Maelstrom_. Before I could admire the sword any further the_ Amphisbaena _lunged and I dodged, then swung the sword with a precision and speed I never knew I had, but the snake was even faster, it swung around its other head and I felt a searing pain erupt on my back, and I knew the thing got me, I swung the sword wildly and managed to land a hit, right on the creature's left head, instantly the _Amphisbaena _erupted into a shower of golden ash that fell all over, landing in the puncture wounds on my back, increasing the pain a hundred and fifty times what it already was.

Slowly and painfully I made my way to the STi and hobbled back out to the garage and unlocked the car and got in. After about five minutes of complete confusion and pain I managed to start the car, and I drove. I couldn't see where I was going all I knew was that I had to get away, and I did just that. Half an hour later I arrived at a bridge and something told me to drive on it. It was dark outside and I couldn't see a thing, I was dying… I could feel my life seeping away, but I pushed on, I looked at the speedometer and it read ten miles-an-hour, and somewhere in the back of my head I heard a voice telling me to gun it. In a matter of seconds I was going eight-five miles-an-hour, when the voice yelled at me to turn the wheel in a hard left and, stupidly I listened. On the way down I wondered what the news show headlines would read, when people discovered my death and the smashed up car at the bottom of the Royal Gorge, probably something along the lines of: _** Stupid teenage boy plummets to his death, and blasts into a million little pathetic pieces, on that happy note a local farmer becomes a billionaire selling grass, more at six…back to you Leslie**_. And with that I crashed into the river going at speeds exceeding a hundred-sixty miles-per-hour


End file.
